


Cardiff (or: Going to the Chapel)

by Jadesfire



Series: The Wandering Years [4]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-05 17:43:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/726058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadesfire/pseuds/Jadesfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As far as weddings went, Jack decided that this ranked up there with the best. No-one had kidnapped the bride, nothing had exploded, none of the wedding gifts held nasty surprises</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cardiff (or: Going to the Chapel)

** Cardiff, 7th September 1980 **

As far as weddings went, Jack decided that this ranked up there with the best. No-one had kidnapped the bride, nothing had exploded, none of the wedding gifts held nasty surprises (although he'd run a scanner over them, just to be sure) and everyone was getting that shifty look that non-dancers always wore when the music started. Give them another hour of the bar being open and there'd be no room left on the dance floor. From his dark corner, Jack smiled as the bride and groom started the first dance, her head resting on his shoulder and his arm wrapped tightly around her waist. They were almost of a height and their dark heads looked just right resting against each other.

Eventually the music ended and something livelier began, encouraging more people to join the happy couple on the floor and even more to make a beeline for the bar. Jack joined the latter group, sticking to his usual glass of water and exchanging greetings with some of the people he knew. It made a nice change, to be himself, with no pseudonyms, top-secret missions or rampaging aliens to get in the way.

"Jack!"

Turning, Jack smiled as Marion made her way through the crowd towards him, Hugh trailing in her wake. He stooped to kiss her, then shook Hugh's hand.

"It was a lovely service, guys."

"You could see it from all the way in the back, could you?" Hugh asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What can I say?" Jack replied, winking at him. "I'm camera shy."

"Of course," Marion said, giving Hugh a look. "But we've sent the photographer home now and even you can't be worried about a few snaps."

"In that case, allow me." Draining his glass, Jack set it on the bar and held his hand out to Marion. "May I have this dance?"

Jack danced twice with Marion (Hugh turned him down flat), then with the Maid of Honour (although judging by what she'd whispered in his ear during the slow part, honour was the last thing on her mind), two of the bridesmaids and finally with the bride.

Vanessa's face was shining, her smile lighting up her eyes as she let Jack guide her round the floor. She danced well, responsive to his movements and comfortable in his arms.

"You look so happy," he told her and watched the smile grow even broader.

"I am," she said, her eyes widening as he spun them both round a few times. "Thank you so much for coming, Jack. It means the world to Hywel, having you here."

"As if I would have missed it." Narrowly avoiding a collision, Jack moved them into some open space. It wasn't often that he found someone who could keep up with him and he was just starting to enjoy himself when Vanessa lifted her head so that their eyes met.

"You don't come to Cardiff very often now, do you?"

He shook his head. "Not really. Not any more."

"Good." She looked away, still smiling in contentment as she had done for the whole day. It was Jack who missed his step, barely covering it by turning her out and bringing her back again, his hand coming to rest on her hip as her hand gripped his shoulder.

"What?"

"I said good." She didn't look at him as she spoke. "He's not over you, Jack, and he's never going to be. But I have no intention of sharing my marriage or my husband with you. I don't care what kind of arrangements you've had in the past. He's mine now." She looked up, her eyes blazing for a moment. "Remember that."

The dance ended before Jack could think what he was supposed to say in reply. Hywel came to claim Vanessa for the next song, giving Jack a warm smile and not seeming to notice that it wasn't returned in kind.

A little dazed, Jack made his way towards the door, suddenly feeling the need for some air. He walked into a cloud of smoke, choking a little as it hit the back of his throat. 

"Out of practice?" Mike, one of Hugh's team from Torchwood Three, gave Jack a broad grin, gesturing with his cigarette.

"A little. You got any spare?"

"Sure." Fishing around for a moment, Mike offered the crumpled box to Jack. "Good service, wasn't it?"

"Good party, too," Jack agreed, accepting the matchbox as well. There was a small huddle of men out here, all dragging on cigarettes and all with a slightly hunted look. The number of crushed stubs on the ground suggested that this wasn't their first trip out into the cold. He cupped his hands around the match as he struck it, protecting it from the worst of the wind and earning him an appreciative look from Mike. 

"You've done this before."

"Once or twice." Jack flashed his best knowing grin as he handed the matches back and took a long drag. The smoke burned in his lungs, a real, tangible feeling against the surreal conversation he'd just had.

Wandering away from the others, he smoked quickly before the wind could blow the cigarette out. Hywel was married. The words rattled round inside his head, still not quite sinking in.

Hywel was married. And to a woman who hated Jack. Oh, she'd smile at him, dance with him, probably even cook him dinner when he made one of his flying visits, but deep down, he'd seen the resentment in her eyes, heard it in the light tone she'd used to tell him to stay away. He'd hurt her, he knew, when he used her to get what he needed and, however much he told himself that he'd had no choice, it couldn't have been easy on her. He'd put her life and her sanity at risk, all for Hywel's sake. He wondered how much more she knew; if it had occurred to her to ask, or if it had occurred to Hywel to tell her.

"You're certainly living up to your reputation as a mystery man today." 

Jack turned, dropping the cigarette almost guiltily as he met Hugh's eye. His friend laughed, digging in his pocket and holding out another packet. 

"Here. I don't suppose they can do you any harm."

"Thanks." Jack took them, his eyes lingering on Hugh's face. "How are you?" 

"Now he asks." Pushing his hands in his pockets, Hugh started a slow stroll round the garden, kicking the occasional stone out of his way. Jack fell into step beside him. "You know," Hugh went on, "it's been eight years since you were here last. Properly I mean."

"That long?"

"You didn't notice?"

Jack shrugged. "I've been busy."

"I noticed. Torchwood offices all round the world, more agents and operatives than I can keep track of. Torchwood One's delighted."

"As long as I don't come home."

Hugh stopped, looking up at him. "You could come home to Cardiff. You know that."

Shaking his head, Jack kept walking. "Not yet I can't. And not now. Vanessa would..." He trailed off.

"She knows her own mind, that girl," Hugh said carefully. "Once she decided that Hywel was what she wanted?" He chuckled to himself. "I don't think the poor lad stood a chance."

"Me either." Jack dropped down onto a bench, pulling the box of cigarettes out again. After a moment, Hugh came over to join him and they smoked in companionable silence for a while. 

"Will you see him while you're over here?" Hugh asked, leaning down to stub out the cigarette on the ground. Jack didn't need to ask who he meant.

"No. I don't think he's even around at the moment." Seeing Hugh's curious look, he explained, "I've got a contact in UNIT. He stopped being their scientific advisor a while ago. No-one knows where he is, although they're sure he'll turn up eventually."

"He usually does. A bit like you." Hugh smiled, leaning back on the bench so he could see Jack properly. His face was unreadable in the dying light and his tone was unnaturally calm. "You know, Hywel never did say what happened in Las Vegas. Not really."

"Really?"

"Really. Funny thing though. Every now and then, he'll say something and it's like having you in the room. He doesn't even seem to know he's doing it. Then there was your present at the stag party."

Jack grinned. It had taken more than a little string-pulling to get hold of the contents of the small, red box he'd given Hywel, but it had been worth it to see the look on his face. Jack hadn't been sure, until that moment, how many of his own memories remained in Hywel's mind and the gift had been an experiment, a test to see what he did and didn't remember.

Judging by the blush that started somewhere below his collar and reached all the way to the tips of his ears, Hywel remembered enough to know exactly what the two small, crystal globes were for. Since they were wrapped up in one of Jack's own favourite memories, he supposed he shouldn't have been surprised.

"Actually," he said, blatantly ignoring Hugh's curiosity, "I almost forgot. This is for you."

Reaching into a pocket, he pulled out a battered leather case.

"What is this?" Hugh took it, turning it over in his hands.

"A gift," Jack said simply. "For, what was it you said? All those Joneses for years to come." His expression softened. "I remember what you told me, about how your parents' house was destroyed in the Cardiff blitz. Every family should have heirlooms and with the wedding and everything?" He shrugged. "I thought you should have something to pass on."

Carefully, Hugh opened the case, reaching in and pulling out the contents. He gave Jack a puzzled look.

"It's a Heuer, made by Edouard Heuer himself," Jack explained, turning the object over so that Hugh could see the embossed name. "He made it specially for Prince Albert, a couple of years before he died. Albert, that is, not Heuer. It was for Albert's experiments up at Torchwood House. Heuer didn't even start selling watches until three years later, though I think it was the money from this that helped him set up his first shop."

"How did you get it?" Hugh turned the object over again, peering at the dial in the dim light.

"Nothing to it. I called in a few favours, pulled a few strings, used my influence." Jack laughed. "Actually, I rang Peter in Glasgow. He arranged for someone to go up to the house and pull it out of the archives. Nothing below board, if that's what you're worried about."

"No!" Hugh said quickly. "I just…I don't know what to say. What do I do with it?"

Jack raised an eyebrow. "It's a stopwatch, Hugh. What do you think you do with it? Albert and Sir George used it in their astronomical observations, tracking stars and suchlike. Keep it, look after it, pass it on when you're ready. When Hywel's ready."

"An heirloom," Hugh repeated, placing it carefully back in the case before turning to Jack. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." 

They sat in the twilight a while longer, Jack just enjoying the peacefulness of Hugh's company, trying to remember the last time he'd had time like this, to sit with Hugh, to sit with anyone and just to be. He sighed a little, stretching his arms across the back of the bench, so that one of his hands rested Hugh's shoulder. After a moment, there was an answering touch, just the slightest brush of fingers, but it was enough. 

Eventually, a voice broke into the silence.

"Hugh? Hugh, are you out here?"

"Duty calls," Hugh said. "I'm here, Marion," he called back. "Hang on."

"They're getting ready to go! Come on. And bring Jack with you!"

"How does she always know?" Jack asked, returning Hugh's grin. 

"I'm still trying to figure that out after thirty years." Hugh got to his feet. "You coming?"

"In a minute. Don't want to get in the way."

"You never do," Hugh said quietly, giving him a last, sad smile before turning and heading back towards the hall. 

By the time Jack got there, the happy couple were nearly in the car and gone. Jack had made sure nothing disastrous had been done to the vehicle, although he had been personally responsible for the shaving cream artwork on the back window. On seeing him, Hywel said something to Vanessa, leaving her with the gaggle of bridesmaids and making his way over.

"I thought you'd gone already," he said, pulling Jack into a tight hug.

Jack returned it, realising that Hywel was almost of a height with him. He didn't remember noticing that before. "I was just getting some air. You'd better be going." 

"Yeah." Hywel pulled away, still holding onto Jack. "Thanks for coming, Jack."

"Wouldn't have missed it for the world." He gripped Hywel's shoulders, keeping the man at arm's length for both their sakes. Hywel smiled, squeezing Jack's arms, then he turned to Vanessa.

"All set?"

"Just waiting for you." Vanessa looked past Hywel, smiling sweetly at Jack. "Goodbye, Jack." She turned away, getting in the car before he could reply. Marion noticed, frowning and catching his gaze, but Jack let his eyes travel onwards, as though he hadn't noticed.

Instead, he stood and waved along with everyone else, feeling the emptiness settle in the pit of his stomach as the car turned the corner out of sight. Hugh had his arm around Marion, who was trying not to cry. Most of the other guests were starting to disperse, pairing off or stamping out cigarettes before heading towards their cars. The Maid of Honour who'd been so friendly earlier on gave Jack a knowing smile, disappearing in a flurry of ruffles back into the hall with the rest of the girls.

He made his way over to Hugh and Marion.

"You're going home?" he asked, offering Marion his handkerchief.

She sniffed and nodded. "Are you coming?"

Jack hesitated, looking back towards the hall. The girl was standing in the doorway, her pale pink dress glowing in the last of the light. He found himself returning her smile.

"Jack?" Hugh was watching, his face carefully blank. 

Hugh and Marion, who never made demands, never made assumptions; who always gave him a roof over his head, a bed to sleep in and a place to rest. Who made this place, this cold, damp city clinging to this stubborn little planet in this backward time-period home. He'd spent too many years on the run not to value a safe haven when he found it. 

Smiling apologetically at the girl in the doorway, Jack shook his head. Then he put an arm round Marion, reaching across her so that he had hold of Hugh's shoulder and he let them take him home.

**Author's Note:**

> (to fend off confused comments): Yes, I know, it's been discussed and debated and fairly firmly established that the stopwatch in "They Keep Killing Suzie" is Jack's. And, yes, you're right that it's this stopwatch – I always check on these things. You'll just have to trust me when I say that I agree with the conclusion and am incorporating it into the broader storyline. The only thing I've made up is the stopwatch's backstory.


End file.
